Baseball Bat Blues
by Horribibble
Summary: It was a bad night for Shindou Shuichi’s poor, victimized little cabeza. Yuki, Shuichi, and a neon pink bball bat. Mild language. Fluff.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation, and I wouldn't change much if anything at all. 

Health to Maki Murakami! May they translate Gravi Remix for American sale!

Enjoy…

**Baseball Bat Blues**

**By: KitsuneArasi**

It was a bad night for Shindou Shuichi's poor, victimized little cabeza.

You see, Shuichi never had been very fast with his reflexes. Usually the quick and over-the-top reactions he had to…well, just about everything, were the result of near inexhaustible energy combined with a dash of mindless spontaneity and several monumental pinches of sheer dumb luck…

And now that cooking lessons were over, it didn't change the fact that Shuichi's head was hurting like a turtle strapped to a Fourth of July firecracker.

His reflexes, you see, even the quicker ones, did not expand themselves into the ducking and blocking category, especially not when it came to his blonde-haired boyfriend…

His decidedly _evil _blonde-haired boyfriend.

It was no unusual thing for Shuichi to bug the novelist mid-work, desperate for affection like the attention whore he was (which was fine, because hey, it's Shuichi, and Yuki had long ago decided that the singer was some sort of alien and that this behavior was therefore to be considered normal for a Martian.), but tonight had certainly deviated from the norm.

Not only did Shuichi have poor ducking abilities, but the novelist had a damned speedy swing.

He hadn't beaten Shuichi, oh no, he couldn't do that, but pure physical harm did not, in his world, extend to hollow plastic baseball bats. He had felt like a total moron purchasing and carrying the large, fluorescent pink child's toy home that afternoon, but the investment had been proving well worth it.

The first wheedling cry from his pink-haired lover was met with a completely unexpected Pink Plastic Surprise Attack of Doom.

(…Dear merciful whoever-was-listening, the nutjob was rubbing off on him.)

The action was met with a look of open-jawed shock from the singer, followed by a piercing wail that could only have come from him, and a chain of 'Yuki hates me, Yuki hates me, please don't hate me, why does Yuki hate me, etc.'…

Until Yuki bopped him on the head again.

The bat made a hollow noise as it hit the younger male's head. Yuki had to fight off a sadistic chuckle, and the night proceeded with flurries of typing interspersed with hollow thumping noises and the inaudible sound of the little singer's heart sinking, much like that of a kicked puppy.

People like Shuichi thrived on love, couldn't live without it. And Shuichi decided a while ago that he needed no one's but Yuki's to make it through life happily.

But being ignored and thwacked like this made him feel worthless, much like a puppy would under the same circumstances, so he took the same actions.

He went into their bedroom, shut the door, curled up on the bed, and softly cried and whimpered himself to sleep.

xXx

_Well, _Yuki thought as he shut down his laptop, standing up to stretch after a productive night's work, _that's new, the brat laying off for that long. Guess I'll keep that dumb toy around a little while longer. _

It _was_ strangely empty, not having the little ball of energy there to keep him company as he wrote, but at least he'd gotten his work done. Hell, he'd even gotten ahead! A little awkward feeling was worth it to avoid getting his ear chewed off by his publisher the next time they met.

…Still, it was really bizarre not to have heard anything at all from Shuichi, and he'd looked off when he evacuated the room.

_Eh. Nothing a little attention won't fix. He'll be fine._

He turned off the lights in his study before heading down the hall to the bedroom, ready to placate his bound-to-be whiny little lover the good old fashioned way.

He wasn't expecting Shuichi to already be asleep. Especially not balled up into a fetal position like that and shaking. He was whimpering, too, Yuki noticed as he moved closer, and as he rolled the blonde over to check his forehead to make sure there was no fever he might catch (at least, that's what he told himself), discovered that the boy's cheeks were damp.

He'd been crying.

_Over a few bonks with a plastic bat? He's had worse before, what's got him so wound up about it this time?_

As Yuki thought, he realized that Shuichi had opened his eyes and begun to pull away from him.

"What's wrong _now_, brat?"

Shuichi's eyes watered.

Okay. That was new.

"You really don't love me, do you?"

Shuichi's words and quivering tone hit him like a gunshot to the heart.

"What the-"

"I mean…if you really wanted me gone so bad, you should have just told me and I'd have gone away. I know I'm annoying, but you don't have to treat me like…like dirt so I'll-"

"I-no, that's not—_Damn _it."

And Shuichi's next words were cut off by a warm pair of lips pressed to his own.

And the night went on and on.

xXx

Later on in the night, as Yuki lay there in bed with Shuichi snuggled up to his bare chest, Yuki placed his mouth close to his ear.

And he whispered, "I love you _and _your stupid distractions, damn brat."

And, though Shuichi knew that the blonde said this thinking that he was asleep, he couldn't help whispering back, 'I love you, too, Yuki' and snuggling deeper into his embrace.

The blonde tensed for a bit before relaxing, his heart just a bit lighter and his world just a bit brighter.

And he kissed the top of his lover's head ever-so-lightly before consigning himself to sleep.

xXx

And the next night, Shuichi completely bypassed his usual chair and sat straight in Yuki's lap.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Shuichi?"

"I'll be quiet, I promise."

He snuggled up close to the warm body of the blonde and didn't say anything else.

And Yuki rested his head on top of the singer's, settled him comfortably into the safety of his arms, and continued typing to the tune of Shuichi's occasional soft humming.

Life couldn't get much better than this…

They'd reached a damn near perfect understanding.

…

He'd have to get that ugly-ass toy framed, or something.

(La Fin)

Violence is not the answer, but it _can _be hella fun!


End file.
